


Coward

by Anonymous



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Delusions, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They're getting louder and crueller.Callum can't take it anymore.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	Coward

**Author's Note:**

> Look at those fucking tags and do not go further. This is not fun, this is a vent fic written to stop me from doing something stupid.

_Stupid. Stupid, you're so fucking stupid._

The words echoed in Callum’s head sounding suspiciously like his dad. This had been building for a while, but the voices were never this loud before. 

_Pathetic, useless waste of space. Why the fuck are you even alive?_

Tears filled Callum’s eyes and his fingers tugged at his hair, pulling in a desperate attempt to make them stop. 

_You think you've found love, you disgusting cunt. Nobody loves you, nobody wants you around. Burden to everyone who knows you._

It wasn't true. It wasn't, it wasn't! Ben loved him, he'd asked him to marry him, why would he do that if he didn't love him? 

_Because you're so desperate for it, for any scrap of affection he knows he can do whatever he wants and you'll take it. Maybe he'll finally beat some sense into you. Or he'll just use you to keep his bed warm. That's about the only thing you're good for._

The voice changed. It wasn't Jonno anymore, it was Ben. Ben's voice that usually whispered sweet nothings and dirty jokes in his ears instead poured vitriol into his mind. Tears burned as they fell down Callum’s cheeks. 

_Why are you even alive? You're pathetic Callum. You think I love you? God. Look at yourself, you're a mess._

"Ben…" Callum's voice cracked. Please, please stop. He didn't want this, he wanted Ben, his Ben. 

As if granting his wish, the voice changed again. 

_How dare you sit there, crying like a frightened fucking child? You're alive and I'm dead. I died, because of you. Because you weren't there, because you're a fucking coward, H. Always have been, always will be._

"No… no Chris, please…" He mumbled, curling up tighter against the bathroom wall, sobs beginning to jerk his body. He had to be quiet, what if someone heard? 

_They already know you're pathetic. Why don't you do them all a favour and out yourself out of your mystery?_

He didn't want to die. He just wanted this to stop, these constant niggling voices of people he did or had once loved, telling him all the worst things he knew to be true about himself. Everything he tried to bury with a smile and a laugh that everyone bought- 

_They don't buy it, Halfway. They never did, they just didn't care enough to call you on it. Get it through your thick skull, no one wants you, no one cares._

Callum needed them to stop. Placing his palms on the floor he crawled to the cabinet and stood up on trembling legs, hearing more hateful words all the while. This would make them stop. It always did. 

Lifting his shirt, he looked down and hated what he saw. Once smooth skin marred with lines, red slashes that had spouted his salvation and silenced his mind.

_Gonna go for the stomach again, Callum? You're so weak. Can't even do this properly, you're still a fucking coward. Not man enough to end it, spare everyone of your wretched existence._

The blade felt good in his hand, cold and grounding. He forced his teary eyes open and looked at it. It would be easy, just to bring the blade down against his wrist and slice. It could all be over. 

_Do it. Do it Callum. It's the only way you'll ever escape. The only way you'll ever make those you love happy._

It made so much sense. What good was he, broken and messed up, haunted by voices of people long dead or disowned? He was better off gone. They were better off without him. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

Blade lined up against his wrist, he held it there for a second, forcing himself to look in the mirror. 

He didn't like the man looking back at him. He was broken, pathetic. Better off dead. 

Decision made, his hand made to move. He met his own eyes and felt no trepidation. This was the only way. 

"Babe, you've been in here age - Callum what the fuck are you doing?" 

The voice barely registered, horror and guilt and humiliation not fully formed when he found himself on the floor, blade ripped away and Ben over him, holding him down. He kept his eyes closed and let the tears fall. As Ben spoke rapidly, words half heartbroken admonishments and half pained pleas for an explanation, Callum could only focus on one voice. 

_Fucking coward._

**Author's Note:**

> If you read it thanks i guess. I hope you're okay. 
> 
> Comment and leave kudos if you want to. I hope this fic hasn't hurt anybody, I just needed to get these feelings out and unfortunately Callum is my outlet.


End file.
